Hitchcock’s female stars—particularly his blondes—are all about forehead. Usually coifed with styles swept back or up off the brow, the women’s faces, not their smartly dressed bodies, are the focus of attention. Given little adornment in the way of jewellery and accessories, and made-up with a clean artfulness (in which sophisticated polish and naturalness blend on the countenance), the face emerges as pristine, the forehead a vista of unfussy feminine beauty. In rear window, Grace Kelly’s visage is elevated to the cinematic equivalent of an epiphany when she leans into soft-focus close-up for a kiss from James Stewart. Eve Marie Saint’s frosted white eye-shadow made her an ivory vision from cheekbone to hair-tip in north by northwest. And Kim Novak never looked so sublime as in vertigo’s Madeleine moments, her somewhat porcine face dramatically attenuated by sleek styling. Most prominent, however, is the Tippi Hedren forehead, with a hairline so high as to be directly above the hinge of the jaw, her teased bangs curving up high before billowing back.